


So This Heart Learns to Trust

by medelrey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Prompt Fill, R plus L equals J, we're back at my forte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa starts an argument with Jon that leads to more than either of them thought it would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So This Heart Learns to Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Based on two prompts I was given via tumblr: "the Dragon Queen is in Winterfell and JonSa (even if they're hopelessly in love with each other) haven't acted on their feelings yet. Sansa starts with a not very innocent comment a very serious and passionate argument with Jon because she doesn't trust Dany or her intentions when Jon does, but what starts as a heated fight ends up with the unconscious revelation of Jon's feelings... and Sansa doesn't want to keep fighting, they already lost enough time. Thank you!" and "Baby it's been a long, long road and a long, long dream."
> 
> So it ended up being a little argument and a lot of smut but I think it turned out okay. Title is from a Bad Suns song.

“And we’re supposed to trust her? Just let this Dragon Queen into our home?”

“Just like you trusted Littlefinger?”

Sansa stares at Jon with wild, angry eyes. She’s ablaze with the fury of ten thousand men. “That’s different,” she says coldly. “We had no other options.”

“Aye, and what options do we have now? What advice would you give?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Jon.”

Jon clenches his fists at his side, heat rising up his neck and turning to harsh tones as he speaks. “Would you have the Lannisters back on the throne? Or Lord Baelish, who was so kind enough to admit he’d have you as his queen?”

Sansa opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Jon’s tone stings and his words hurt worse. Her throat hurts from holding back tears. “Do not speak to me of the Lannisters, Jon. Don’t pretend for a second I’d ever want them anywhere near the Iron Throne. And Baelish,” she whispers, “What low blows. I thought you loved me better.”

Sansa looks so sad Jon feels his heart tear in two. He hadn’t meant a word he said - he did love her better than that. Over the last year he’d come to love her more than anything in the entire world; sister, cousin, anywhere above or in between.

“Sansa…”

“Don’t.” She says, quickly wiping her tears away. “Have someone send for me when she arrives.”

She cries as she enters her chambers, for the first time in as long as she can remember. She’s tried so hard to trust Jon and everyone around her - but how could he expect her to trust the queen so quickly? This new queen, the daughter of the Mad King, aunt to Jon, the queen with a thousand titles and no ties to the mainlands.

Her tears are hot and heavy on her cheeks as she sheds her heavy cloak and sits on the edge of her bed. She feels ridiculous crying over such a stupid argument, but she never thought Jon would be the one causing her distress. He’s done nothing but protect her since she rode to Castle Black; done nothing but make her feel safe for the first time in years. Her stomach flip flops as she realizes her love might be a little bit more than sisterly.

Well, she is his cousin now, she thinks, swallowing hard as her tears flow heavy as ever. Maybe Jon was right; perhaps this queen isn’t as bad as she thinks. She’s a hundred thousand times better than Joffrey and leagues smarter than Cersei. If Jon trusts her, then maybe Sansa should too.

Sansa’s eyes feel heavy as she lies back on her down mattress. A nap couldn’t hurt; it would be a while before Daenerys arrived. When she sleeps she dreams of Jon, of his black curls and dark eyes. She sees his smile and hears his laugh and feels his touch on her skin. He’s whispering in her ear but she can’t make out the words, but it feels so real, like he’s right there beside her in bed, his fingers threading through her hair and lips on her neck, moving lower and lower…

She awakes with a jolt, her room significantly darker than it was when she came up. There’s a small knock on her door and Sansa pushes her hair out of her face. “Come in,” she calls, smoothing out her gown.

“You’re finally awake,” Jon says, entering her room but staying by the door. “I’ve checked on you twice but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Has the queen arrived? Did no one send for me?”

“I came for you but I thought you might like some rest. Queen Daenerys was understanding. Shall I have dinner brought to you or will you attend the celebration?” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet and Sansa stretches her neck.

“Jon, come here.” He crosses the room as quickly as he can, sitting on her bed as she takes his hand in hers.

“Sansa, I’m so sorry. I was wrong to say those things to you.”

“Hush, Jon.” She kisses his fingers, holding his palm against her cheek. “You were right. I have to trust you. We must trust each other.”

Jon looks over her face, half-smiling. He can feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning light and airy. Gods, she’s so beautiful, Sansa, and what he wouldn’t do to kiss her right now. He settles his lips against her forehead, rubbing his thumb over the apple of cheek.

“I am so tired of fighting, Jon. We have fought for so long.”

“I know, Sansa, I know. I will honor your wishes more and listen to what you have to say. You saved me more times I care to admit.”

“No, you’ve misunderstood,” she hesitates a moment. “I’m tired of fighting how I feel for you. Maybe I’ve always felt it and been drawn to you. You were my home and I’ve been so blind not to see it.”

Jon looks at her, confused. Sansa kisses his palm, nuzzling her cheek against his skin. “Don’t be so daft; I know you feel it, too.”

“I really…” He begins, but what else can he say?

“Tell me you don’t feel it in your heart. Tell me you haven’t thought about what it’d be like to kiss me or linger in my chambers after everyone else has retired. Tell me those things and I’ll not mention them again.”

Jon flexes his fingers against Sansa’s, his cheeks flaming red at her words. She’s right, of course, everything she’s said is true. Jon has thought about it - kissing her and holding her and nearly everything in between.

He settles for kissing the side of her mouth instead, just barely, where his lips barely touch hers at all. “You’re a dream,” he whispers, “If I ever die again, it’ll be you I see, I swear it.”

She gasps at his words, heart sinking in her chest as she thinks about losing her one piece of security. “You’re not dreaming,” Sansa says, her lips hovering over his, “And you’re certainly not dying.”

Jon smiles as he kisses her full on this time, pressing his mouth to hers, his hands gripping her waist as she scratches at his beard. “But we both might if we keep the queen waiting for the welcome feast any longer…”

Sansa practically bounces as Jon escorts her downstairs, her fingers clutching his arm like he might dissipate into thin air if she lets go. Not even Daenerys makes her nervous; she matches her wit for wit, even earning a small smirk from the queen after her third glass of wine.

***  
When the queen leaves, Jon sneaks into Sansa’s chambers, claiming them as his own. He makes her feel things she thought impossibly; imaginary. Things she never dreamed where possible. Jon groans as Sansa’s fingers fist in his hair as he kisses down her body to her center.

She tastes so sweet, like honey on his tongue as her wetness drips down his chin and and soaks the linen beneath them. Usually Sansa is quiet and reserved with soft words. But here, under Jon’s callused hands and soft mouth she comes alive. Her toes curl into the fur, into Jon’s shoulder blades as her hips arch off the mattress. She’s torn between grabbing his hair and holding him exactly on that spot or grinding herself down on his mouth to have his tongue sink inside her.

Sansa uses the headboard for purchase as she shoves her hips down, riding her hips along Jon’s mouth, gasping and whining as he guides her along to oblivion. She’s no longer in Winterfell; she’s no longer anywhere but somewhere with Jon Snow’s pretty mouth locked between her thighs. She can hear the words he said only moments earlier; “Can I taste you, sweet girl? Can I fuck you with my mouth? Will you peak for me and never let it stop?”

Jon’s hands seem to be everywhere at once; her hips, leaving fingerprints behind where his lips missed, across the valley of her breasts before he reaches her nipples and pinches the pink buds. Sansa intertwines their fingers together, encouraging his ministrations as she bows her back. He keeps licking, flicking his tongue over her clit until her breath catches in her throat and her skin matches the shade of her hair.

Sansa’s an angel spread like this, smooth thighs locking around his head until the only thing in the world that exists is her cunt. She twists her hips to the side, angling her pelvis to hit Jon’s tongue exactly where she wants it. And for fuck’s sake she doesn’t even have the voice to tell him she’s coming, just lets her fingers dig into his scalp and her hips rumble under his hands. There will be no greater pleasure in the world than this; she wonders if Jon would go down on her forever if she asked.

She knows she would; Jon would do anything Sansa asked, especially this. He tells her all the time how much he loves the taste between her thighs, how much he adores the moans she makes, and how his name falls from her mouth. He tells her when she’s alone; when there’s no one lurking in the halls but them and he can slide his hand up her skirts and feel how wet she is. He tells her when there’s a thousand people in the room; Jon’s lips at her ear and hand on the small of her back. Sansa wonders if people can see her blush.

Jon slides his hands under her arse, lifting her to his mouth as he sucks at her clit, tasting her, savoring the way Sansa moves and how she breathes his name. She whimpers as Jon flicks his tongue over her swollen nub, fingers digging into her flesh. “Come for me again, sweet girl,” he says, instantly sealing his mouth around her clit once more.

Sansa moans, shoving her hips upward to match Jon’s rhythm. He runs his tongue in a zigzag, breathing her in and groaning as Sansa loses what little control she has and bucks wildly against his face. She peaks suddenly and forgets everything she knows about quiet and ladylike. She screams Jon’s name and fists her hands into the pillows as her voice bounces around the room and lands in the ears of her lover. He’s never heard anything quite so beautiful.

Jon licks her through her second orgasm, her spasms becoming less and less intense as she comes down. When he finishes, he manages to kiss her chest, up her neck, to her lips before Sansa opens her eyes. They’re glassy and bright blue and Jon wishes he could see them forever. “It has been a long road,” she says, winding her arms around his neck, “And we are finally home.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr screeching about the 1975 and Jonsa (and Kit and Sophie, too) at mattysigh.tumblr.com


End file.
